I've been allergic to cats for as long as I can remember. They would throw me into uncontrollable sneezing fits, making my eyes itchy and my throat dry. So naturally, I started to despise them, thinking everybody who owned one was a complete moron. I mean, beyond the allergies, why would anybody want to financially and emotionally take care of something that never gave back? My only experiences had been with cats that hissed, bit and clawed at me. Cats who hid when I entered the room, only vainly coming out to eat. I thought them selfish, mean; nothing like the loyal and affectionate dog I had owned during my childhood.
So when I moved out on my own, my childhood dog now long gone, I of course felt the intense need to adopt a pet. But, with my busy schedule and crazy work hours, the only animal beyond a hamster or a fish that would work for me was, you guessed it, a cat. As you can imagine, I teetered with this idea for quite some time, wondering if it was worth giving these despicable animals one last chance. I mean, beyond the great possibility I'd mimic the allergies of my childhood, I wondered if I would be able to mentally cope with such a egomaniacle being. I finally did though take the plunge, deciding to foster a cat named Bob. But don't get me wrong, it wasn't too much of a commitment at all. I was merely giving him a roof over his head while his animal group found him a forever home. And as I saw it, with this experience, I was about to reinforce and strengthen every belief I had about these animals. Unbelievably and almost immediately though, quite the opposite began to happen, which is truly when the craziness really started to begin.
The minute Bob the cat arrived and walked out of his crate, he immediately approached me, affectionately rubbing his whole body onto mine. And after he did this, the foster woman who had brought him to me almost collapsed to the floor in shock. She soon explained to me that Bob never, and she meant never ever, approached new people due to his past abuse. I was officially the first person he had shown affection to like this in his entire three year life span. She thought it simply amazing, telling me I must just be a cat person. I all but laughed at this notion, wondering if this woman was for real. I mean, she was calling me a cat person? The same person who had hated these disgusting creatures for most of my young life. Was she crazy? Turns out...she knew exactly what she was talking about because it didn't take long for this tiny black and white fur ball to become my world. Maybe it was how he sat with me for hours at a time or how he made a cold house warm again. We just began to form this unexplainable bond. One much different from what I had had with my childhood dog. Almost more respectful. And in addition, magically my allergies were nowhere in sight! Of course it wasn't all a fairytale. He had his moments of biting and scratching and being vain, but it suddenly didn't matter anymore.
Maybe he knew I had ultimately saved his life. Maybe I just got lucky with him. All I know is that today, I can no longer picture life without him. I'm not sure how it happened but I'm glad it did.
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